Dawn's New Wings
by DanceBurn
Summary: Spike and Dawn survive a traumatic event that will forever change their lives. In Dawn's POV. Spike tries hard to make everything right, but will Dawn go along?
1. Prologue

**Dawn's New Wings**

_The New Version_

Disclaimer:_Buffy__ the Vampire Slayer and the characters belong to Joss Wheden and Joss Wheden only! The characters I make up in the future will be noted._

Author's Notes:_My take on what happens way after the episode, Sleeper. This takes place after the yearly apocalypse, but everything didn't end as well as it usually does._

"Have I?" Spike asked once again. I could not answer. I could not think. The car was moving fast, slipping on the dark road. The moon's light shown through the window. Good light to Spike. Bad light to me. I've always hated night time. The time when B—

I can't even say her name anymore. I've lost her…three times. Yet the last time…was the _last_ time. Never again would she be back. No one could do anything about it now…not Willow—no, that didn't make sense. Could never happen. Not Giles, Xander or even Anya. No one could bring her back.

I swallowed the guilt…the pain. Yet it got lodged in my throat, making it even worse.

"Nibblet…" Spike sighed. I turned my head towards him, watching him control the steering wheel of his car, glancing at me once or twice. I went to answer his question that he must have repeated four or five times.

"Have you always taken care of me?" I repeated his question to myself. "Sometimes. When she wasn't around." I looked at him, seeing only half of his face. Yet I saw his eyes perfectly—painful, drowned in sorrow and sadness. A few minutes passed before any of us spoke.

"A new town….no beasties…" The former big bad optimistically said. I shook my head; of course there will be demons and vampires in this town. There is in every town, can't help that. Let's just hope the new slayer will take care of everything that has to do with the world ending. Hopefully she will have a scoobie gang of her own. People she could turn to for help. People that would help her live longer…happier. Just like B—

You know I have to stop doing that. Sooner or later I will have to say her name…

I frowned, my attention turning back to Spike.

"S-Spike?" I stuttered.

"Yea Dawn?" he glanced at me, wondering what I was going to ask. I could see surprise in him, since I haven't took the initiative to speak unless I was spoken to.

"How are we going to do this?" 

"We're strong…" he said roughly. "We survived, right? Nothing can stop us."

That was wrong. _It_ stopped her, _it_ stopped them. It _can_ stop us. I say _it_ now because I honestly don't know what it was. Something was unleashed back there. Different things, yet they were all the same. I wish I could change everything that had happened. I still can't believe it, yet I do. Its weird…I would think about her. Thinking I was just being driven home by Spike. His home too, at the time anyway. But then I'm always reminded—there is no home. I will never—EVER see home again.

I looked over at Spike. His jaw clutched, his eyes piercing through the windshield. He may be strong…but…I'm not.

Glancing at him, I let a tear fall. He was pretending that he was focusing on the road. I knew he was thinking about her. I was thinking about her too. 


	2. Mourning Part I

Mourning Part 1

"No pets, no prostitutes, no drugs, no parties, no overdue rent, no harassing your neighbors, no loud noises in the night." The lady took a drag of her cigarette and continued with the rules. "If you don't give me the money when the money is due, I double it." The lady took another huff of her cancer stick and blew it towards my direction. I cringed. I've never been a major fan of cigarette smoke. 

"You understand my rules?" she asked. Spike nodded.

"I think I got it," he replied with his jaw clenched. 

"Good. This is the key to your room." The lady took a key out of a metal case on her desk and handed it to Spike. "And this is a spare key incase you lose that one," she continued as she took out an identical key. "Your room is number 184, don't forget it. Welcome to the sweet town of Matington."

We hurried to our apartment room, finding it dusty and dank. My nose scrunched up at the smell. The air was so thick that I entered a series of spasmodic coughs, holding my chest in agony. 

"You okay?" Spike asked with his scarred eyebrow raised. I nodded, not saying anything, yet I looked around the room with a repelled look plastered on my face. There were cobwebs in every corner, and the large bed was covered in thick, endless dust. 

"Don't worry; we're not going to stay here for long. Just until I get a proper job," Spike said, carrying a bag of items to the bed. Neither of us spoke with a hint of happiness in our voices; just sadness. Mostly in whispers, because even though it happened a week ago, we were still in shock.

Spike continued talking, but I frowned, thinking about Sunnydale, barely listening to Spike's words. I don't know how I'm ever going to start a new life. I don't think I can. Just one little thing reminds me of Anya or Xander or…B--. 

"This isn't real," I whispered. Spike stopped talking and turned around to face me, not saying anything. "This is just a dream, right? The past couple days…all a dream. God this can't be real." I started to cry so hard my chest hurt. Why? Why them? They were the saviors of the world, my friends…my family. 

"This is my nightmare…or a hallucination. Or…maybe I'm just in a coma, right? Some demon knocked me out…God this can't be real!" I screamed. Spike stood there, watching my legs collapse from under me as the tears kept on coming. He didn't move, just stared as I sobbed alone.

*          *          *          *

The sharp metallic tickled her skin, revealing drops of her precious blood. She looked down at her chest, watching the blood spill off her and onto the ground. 

"No more pain," she whispered and looked at me, wonder in her eyes. My eyes were shocked, afraid, crying inside. Yet the tears wouldn't poor out.

"Buffy…you don't…you don't have to do this," I yelled. 

She looked back at the line of blood on her chest. "Yes…I do Dawnie…" I shook my head. Feeling like I couldn't control this…feeling useless, like I could do nothing whatsoever to stop her. 

"B-Buffy…what about me? What am I going to do without you?" I tried to reason with her, yet she her mind didn't budge.

"You'll be okay, Dawnie…" Buffy smiled and caressed my face. 

"I-I don't understand…" I pressed my face against her palm, feeling the feathery feeling of her skin against mine.

"You will…" she replied. Then her eyes turned deep black, my own eyes getting wide. "Every slayer has a death wish." 

*           *          *          *

I woke up in a panic, sweat streaming off my body. My breathing was heavy and unbridled, as I slowly started to control it. I turned slowly, seeing Spike lying down on the bed next to me, watching me. 

"You were shaking," he whispered.  

"W-Where am I?" my voice rasped. I didn't sit up, just looked at the unfamiliar ceiling. The images flooded back. Oh god, I knew exactly where I was. And that wasn't a good thing. My face twisted, trying to hold back the tears.

"We're in a--"

"I know," I said, cutting Spike off. 

 He looked at me with a blank stare, and for a second there I didn't know who he was. I blinked, effacing the thought.  

"You hungry?" he asked. I sat up on my elbows and looked stared down at him, nodding.

*          *          *          *

"What'd you dream about?" Spike asked me as we walked the streets of the small town, Matington. It was like Sunnydale; well, without the hellmouth mayhem.

I bit my lip. The dream was so…real. Yet it didn't happen like that. Buffy's last words in my dreams stuck to me like glue. 'Every slayer has a death wish,' I thought. 

"Dawn?" Spike called. I snapped out of my reverie and looked at his pale face. 

"Sorry," I mumbled, holding my hands, walking more briskly than before. "I don't know…I can't remember." I lied. He nodded, looking at me again. He didn't say anything, although I knew he wanted to. A couple minutes passed without any of us talking. 

"The Liquid Scene," Spike said out of the blue.

"Huh?" I asked as he pointed to a club across the street. My mouth moved into an 'O' shape as I studied the glowing letters of the sign.

"Wanna take a look?" Spike asked.

"Sure," I replied, walking with Spike to the club. 

Rave lights shown through everyone, like ghosts. The music was so mesmerizing that people seemed to act like slaves to it. It was different than the Bronze; I didn't have to worry about vampires hiding in the crowds, waiting to take a bite of your precious neck and suck all the blood from your body, leaving you in a coma that you will never ever get out of…also known as Death. 

Spike and I started walking through the crowds, pushing them out of the way so we could find an empty table. The people seemed to keep on coming, which got so frustrating. I reached for Spike's hand so I wouldn't lose him. I forgot how cold it was; it felt like pure ice against mine. A huge amount of people came towards us, pushing and shoving Spike and I out of the way. I didn't know what happened, but I let go of his hand as the crowd smothered me.

**TBC**


	3. Mourning Part 2

Mourning Part 2

"_How can you say that?" I asked bitterly. His eyes changed in mood, looking at me as though I dumped his peroxide all over the cold floor. "How can you say you love her? You…you tried to rape her."_

"_Dawn…"_

"_No! That's not love, its…sick. A sick vampire thing that you…vampires do."_

"_I didn't mean to," he replied, his teeth clenched. _

"_You didn't mean to! Oh god please don't tell me you just said that. You just accidentally fell on top of her, accidentally pinned her arms down and whisper not-so-sweet-nothings into her ear?"_

"_You bloody well know that's not what I meant!" he yelled, reaching over and shaking my shoulders. My eyes went wide and connected with his. I felt like crying but I couldn't. This was Spike. The guy that I used to adore, and now suddenly he's the guy that I absolutely despised. I always felt disgusted whenever looking at him. Now I looked at him like he was a vampire, and treated him like a vampire. Soul or no soul._

"_You're still you, Spike." Water filled my eyes yet did not leak out; it just blurred my vision of Spike. But I guess my vision of him was already blurred. I let out a furious smile. "You're still you." His eyes went from angry to confused, but then suddenly realized what I meant. _

_I shrugged his hands off my shoulders, getting out of his angered embrace. "And don't ever touch me again. Ever. I may not have super-strength like Buffy, but like I said, I'm pretty sure I know how to set a dead person on fire."_

_He looked at me with the same look he had when I threatened him last year, nothing but shock. I took a step or two from him when I remembered something. "Oh, and Spike?" I turned around, looking him straight in the eye, speaking in a bitter tone although it should have sounded enthusiastic and joyous. "Incase I don't see you next week, Happy Valentine's Day."_

_

* * *

_

The crowd went through me like a ghost, almost knocking me off my feet in the process. I quickly recoiled, but panic engulfed me when I realized Spike wasn't with me.

"Spike?" I called out, but no answer came. My eyes wandered around me, trying to search through the club to find bleached hair followed by the darkest clothing. I turned around and looked but…

I didn't find him.

How could he not be here? One second he was there, hanging on to my hand and the next, gone. Poof. He would not just walk away. So quickly at that.

M-Maybe this is all a dream. Everything. Sunnydale becoming Sunnyhell—literally, and Spike taking care of me until this very day, then disappearing in a flash. I mean, that's rational…right?

I rolled my eyes. Good try, Dawn. He probably just walked off for some reason…hopefully a good reason. My hands went into a form of tight fists from nervousness. Stupid crowd.

The people gave me space; hence I was out in the open. But still no Spike came to my rescue.

I rolled my eyes again. Darn it, Dawn, it's just a club. No terrifying demons and vampires, remember? It's just a fun, little club in a little town with little to no beasties, as Spike likes to call them. Then suddenly _I_ felt little. Spike was like a security blanket…literally. Well not the blanket part, because that would sound erotic in some ways. But definitely the security part.

I frowned, glancing around the club once again before settling on an empty seat by the bar. The bartender smirked at me mischievously, not helping with the uncomfortable factor much.

"What would you like, sweet thing?" he asked in a husky voice as he planked his towel over the counter next to my hands. My eyebrows wrinkled in disgust, but then I started to rummage through my pockets for money. Turning up nothing, I shrugged to the perverted bartender and walked away.

* * *

_My eyes landed on him. His weak body shivered against the gravestone, and I could tell that he was crying. And I knew why. I looked at his position, his side faced the tombstone, and his head rested in his hands. I sighed as the wind wrapped around me as I hugged myself, trying to keep my body warm. _

"_Spike?" My voice quavered, my feet picking up the pace as I walked to his shriveled body. His head jerked up, and that's when I saw tears in his eyes._

"_I-I didn't mean to," he mumbled. _

"_I know" I said as I crouched down beside him, my eyes leveling with his._

"_I hurt her. I hurt all of you." His voice was hoarse and distant, and he looked at the ground in front of him, trying to hide his eyes from mine._

"_We should get you home. You shouldn't be out here alone," I said nonchalantly. His head turned to look at me, and he seemed upset, with a little bit of angriness in his eyes. Not angry at me, but angry at himself._

"_Why! So I don't hurt anybody else? I know what you're thinking…you don't have to keep it all in. I know what I'm capable of." He sighed, but continued. "I'm evil."_

"_You think running away is going to do you any good? You're just going to hurt more people," I replied bitterly, but realized that my words struck him hard. I took a deep breath. "But we can help you. You come with me and we'll help you."_

_Spike shook his head. "It's too strong."_

_I took his hand in mine. And for the first time, I saw him for who he really was. "But we're stronger."_

_He looked at me, confused. "You forgive me?"_

_I couldn't lie to him. Fact was, I didn't. Well not completely, anyway. "No," I whispered so faintly that if he didn't have his super-hearing he wouldn't have heard it. "But I will…in time. Just come with me."_

_

* * *

_

I wrapped my arms around my thin frame, wishing I could just be invisible as I walked around the people, trying my best not to bump into them. It was hard since I was so out of it. Ever since…ever since that night I've been kind of people-phobic, I could only be around Spike…but Spike isn't a person, so I guess it kind of works out.

I stared at the people dazedly, trying to sort out real from not real. Sometimes I would see their faces, smiling back at me. But they ended up turning evil, always a devilish smile toying with me. Spike would always tell me those were not real. That I had to ignore them. It was hard to…ignore them I mean. A few days ago at a gas station, I thought I saw Xander.

But it was always fictitious…suddenly I would see the real person, an unfamiliar face, staring back at me in confusion. They looked at me as though I was psychotic, and I started to believe I was.

But I bet if I went to see a psychiatrist, they would tell me it was all normal. Just a common stage of getting over what I just had to deal with. But I'm not sure if I'm ever going to get over it. I mean, how can a person get over something like that? They would end up going insane.

God, I hope I won't go insane. Then again, maybe I already am.

This sucks.

And it's not like Spike helped me much; he never comforted me in any kind of way. Just protected me as if he was obligated to. Maybe he was still in shock. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Whatever, its not like I ever expected him to care about me, anyway. He never did, so why should he start?

He never really calls me by his usual nicknames for me anymore. Once in a great while, he does. But it's mostly 'Dawn'. That pretty much sends a chill through my spine. It's always serious. Nothing's ever light anymore.

Always dark.

How I want this to be over with. This pain that set up camp in me. It'll never go away. It's only been such a little bit of time, but I can already tell. I will never, ever get through this. Every night I cry alone, always alone. Not a hand to help me out, not a hint of comfort.

But I think it would take much more than that. Comfort is useless when you think about it. It's like a drug: feels good at the time but then all of a sudden, has the withdrawal of leaving you emptier than ever. But maybe that's all that you ever get to pull you out of your great misery. Spurious happiness, if you want to call it that.

You know, all this stuff is really making my head hurt.

I stopped when I saw an emergency exit door in front of me. I don't know how I could have thought all that in such a short distance of walking. I looked behind me, and I saw that I went across the whole club. Turning back to the door, my lips twisted in an act of thinking. Spike would kill me if I left, but I really needed to get out of here. The social interaction was really pulling me out of my comfort zone. Then again, I was uncomfortable the first millisecond in here.

I _really _have to stop thinking so much.

I quickly pushed open the supposedly cumbersome door without effort, stepping into a lit alleyway. The heavy door closed behind me in a heart-breaking thud, making me wince. Stupid door. Everything was stupid. You know, maybe I should invest in some higher vocabulary to further explain how I hated everything.

And once again, I was rudely interrupted from my reverie, but by a different a source. A loud bang. It seemed distant, but loud all the same.

I hurried down the alleyway, trying to pinpoint the sound. Maybe someone needed help. I don't know what kind of help though. Getting raped? Being attacked by vampires? I rounded the corner, my feet making pathetic little pants on the ground.

That's when I saw it, the whole scene laid out before me.

His boot reached forward and jerked up, the stake flying to his hand at an unbelievable speed. They were ganging on him, and he knew it. Quickly he dug his foot into the male vampire's chest, sending him backwards, then he turned to the female, giving a knowing smirk that she was about to get staked. I just stared, not knowing what to do to help. The female let out a hoarse, mirror-shattering scream before she turned to ashes, and he gripped his stake tighter as he reverted back to the other four vampires.

He was in trouble now.

I snapped out of my staring mode, and quickly grabbed a scrap of wood lying against the wall next to me. The damp wood prickled against my skin, giving it blisters although I didn't care. My feet steadily hit the ground, running the short distance it took to reach the vampires, they noticed of course, smelling the sweet scent of fresh blood. Spike noticed too, giving me a worried glance before he received a punch in the face, sending him against the wall…hard. For a moment I thought he was unconscious, but I was proved wrong when he quickly recoiled to his feet.

Two vampires ganged up on him, and the other two slowly walked towards me, their elongated teeth glistening as they smiled.

Good luck, Dawnie.

The larger one lunged at me, but I stepped out of the way, and because of his speed, he crashed in a pile of garbage nearby. I gripped my stake tighter, ignoring the blood that was pouring from my palm. He turned back in fury, letting out an animalistic growl before he lunged at me again, but this time I didn't get out of the way fast enough. He sent a punch my way, knocking me square in the jaw. I flew backwards, landing on my back, pain running up my spine. I tried to get up but I couldn't, and the closest I could get to standing up was resting on my elbows, the rest of my body clinging to the ground. The pain was wince-worthy.

And darn it, I knew I couldn't fight. I was way too out of it to even consider taking on a vampire. The pain hurt, of course, but it didn't bring me back to reality.

I looked up at the vampire, who had a smile plastered on his face. The sick sounds of his laughs made me cringe, which made him laugh even harder.

"Poor little girl, thinks she could take on a vampire like me. Who do you think you are? The slayer?" He laughed again.

Once again I was reminded of Buffy, her voice telling me everything was going to be alright. Her laughs when she was happy; cut short by hungry growls of pain. I wondered how she did it, slaying I mean. Even with super-strength, it must have been hard.

A tear threatened to come out, and it did. The salty drop dripped off my eyelid, and made the vampire laugh harder, if that was even possible.

Bastard.

I caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair creeping behind the vampire. Smiling, I replied, unnerving the vampire. "No, I'm her sister."

His eyes went wide before exploding into dust, clouding the view of Spike before the ashes landed on the ground in a heap.

It was silent before I managed to spit out weak syllables. "And the others?"

"Staked them. I guess this town isn't as demon-free as we thought it was." He let out a deep breath even though he didn't need to.

A creepy feeling made its way inside me, completely taking captive of my body. No town will ever be safe. More tears seeped through my eyes, and I looked on, behind Spike, behind everything.

* * *

"Whoa, what happened to you guys?"

We turned to the culprit of the voice, the landlord. She took a drag of her cigarette as she raised her eyebrow. Does she ever stop smoking!

"Some crazy blokes tried something on Dawn, here." Spike signaled to me. I didn't have the energy to say something else, which the landlady took as a hint that I didn't want to talk about it.

We passed through the main room, exhausted. Well I was exhausted, but I wasn't sure about Spike. His hair was in light curls, which ran over his forehead a bit. I myself didn't look that great either; a new bruise was starting to form on my jaw.

Room 184 appeared before us, representing the dark and dank room we were about to enter. The door itself resembled something from a cave. I didn't mind, I guess. Neither did Spike, he's used to living in crypts and dark underground areas.

He pushed open the door, letting me in first. I spotted the big bed in front of us, and quickly climbed into it, digging my head into the pillows. The dusty sheets added even more dirt to my hair and clothing. But at this point of time, I didn't care. All I wanted was sleep.

I felt the presence of Spike, hovering over the bed, staring at me. He was utterly silent, so pants of breath coming from him. When I was younger, I'd always expect pants of breath to come out of him. But that usually never happened. Sometimes it did, and he'd blame it on habit.

My body slowly rolled onto my back, and I glanced up at him.

He just stood there.

"You know, we have to stop with the off to space staring," I mumbled. He shook, snapping back to reality, and then walked into the bathroom without a word.

I heard him wailing later on, his soft cries barely making it to my ears. He never came out of the bathroom, and for some reason I never went in there to comfort him. Is this what it'll always be like? I didn't have anybody, not even Spike. And he didn't have anyone either.

A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom, and I acted like I was sleeping. I heard him rustle through some bags of ours, and then retreated to one side of the bed, edging toward his end of the bed…away from me.

I was like a disease.


	4. Fatal Movement

Fatal Movement

The local Denny's was crowded that evening. Spike wanted to leave and go somewhere else, but for some reason I wanted to stay. Since the night at the club, the most populated place I visited was the gas station for junk food to live on.

We asked the waitress to be placed in the corner where no one would pay attention, and to our advantage no one did. It's funny how the only public place we could have our privacy would be a restaurant known to serve the drunks and stoned teenagers of the evening.

"Are we going to stay here?"

"In Denny's?" Spike asked in all seriousness. I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, in Matington."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"I don't know. I'm just tired of sitting in a car all the time."

Spike shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

He said this in every town, but I didn't understand. Lately I was dizzy, dizzy from moving around all the time and never remembering where I was.

"Why not?"

Spike sighed and leaned back, this time actually looking me in the eyes. "How long do you think we can stay in one place before we fuck it all up? You really think you can build a new life here and keep secrets from the ones you become friends with? It'd only be a matter of time before we got suspicious. " I looked down, folding my arms.

"Think about it, Dawn. We're all alone."

* * *

We entered the room silently, and I was thankful to see the bed in front of me. I crawled into it and under the covers, comfortably resting my forearm over my eyes which remained slightly open. 

Spike shifted from foot to foot. "I'm just gonna--"

There was that infamous line that signaled the later events for Spike of the night.

"Go. Drink the night away." I said monotone. He hesitated before me, and for a moment seemed to contemplate the decision of staying or leaving. But as always, he gave a little nod before going out the door. My whole body shook with anger.

"I hate you."

* * *

_His eyes, determined. His hands all over me, gripping, pulling, dodging the spread of fire. Not looking back. My feet collapse, and I scream obscenities. Need to find them, need to save them. Strong arms lift me from the ground, and he flees to safety. I kick, scream, choke from the smoke. Grabbing at nothing, he restrains my arms and holds tighter. The heat is to the extreme yet does not burn. Can't save them, too far, too helpless and all I can do is scream._

I flinched, waking up to the sound of my own heart pounding. And to the sound of drunken laughter. I turned my head to stare at the bathroom door, and more giggles erupted from it.

A few seconds of recovering and I shifted off the bed, eyes on the door. With a turn of the knob I peeked through the opening, finding Spike huddled in the corner. I waited, but he didn't notice my presence.

I crept to him, his arms wrapped around his face. Getting on my knees, I whispered,

"Spike?"

Abruptly he lifted his head and I was met with watery eyes. "You're awake."

It was then I noticed the bottle he loosely held at his side.

He swallowed. "Saw you sleeping. Wanted to join you."

"Spike, you're drunk."

"Shyeah, not enough though." He raised the bottle. "Doesn't taste so good. It burns." Spike stared at the beer mindlessly, and in one motion threw it across the room. It smashed on the opposite wall, the action causing me to shrink back. Neither of us spoke for a few moments, only gazed at the broken pieces.

"Are you cleaning that up?"

He snorted. "Go back to bed."

"I'm not tired."

"_Well bloody _get _tired!_" He growled and stood up quickly, walking past me and to the door. I thought of several insults to shoot back, but I didn't use any of them. Resting his head on the door, he broke into another giggle fit, and I saw tears stream down his face.

A cautious whisper, "I'll clean it up."

On shaky legs I headed over to the shattered glass and kneeled down.

"Don't bother," he said, his voice breaking.

"I _have _to."

With a sniffle I barely managed to grab the pieces, unaware of the sharp edges that threatened to cut my skin.

"You're doing it wrong," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "You'll bleed."

"Then I'll bleed."

"Gonna go back out."

I snapped my head up, glaring. "God, I can't believe you!"

His jaw muscles tightened, but his voice didn't raise. "I'll be back in a few hours."

_That's it. _Finally standing back up I disposed the larger bits of glass, and walked past him in an angry stride.

"Great, go get drunk off your ass. That's all you do now, isn't it?"

Apparently he didn't understand my very coherent mumbling. "What?"

"Nothing! I said nothing. So you can just pretend everything's peachy keen and that I have no problem with you never being here, you acting like a psychotic alcoholic and doing nothing but drinking up half the town cause of your stupid grief!" I said the last word in a mocking tone, an angry smile on my face. But it soon ceased.

Spike followed me to the bedroom, staying silent but carrying an annoyed air.

"All you can think about is Buffy, not everyone else who died cause you're a selfish _prick. _You only care about making yourself feel better," I shot. "Think of everything _I _lost, and you still believe you have the rough end of the deal."

"So suddenly your sister's death isn't a biggie now! 'Oh I lost _all_ my loved ones so let's not dwell on _her_ bellyflopping into the bloody heavens!'!"

I spun around. "God, you totally have a gift for twisting people's words around!" A glance to my jacket and I reached for it, throwing it over my shoulders. "Go spend a romantic night with your shot of vodka or whatever the hell you drink, I'm not staying here."

He followed behind and grabbed my leather-clad arm.

"Don't touch me!" Turning on my heels, I hit him as hard as I could with my free hand, knuckles colliding with his cheek. The impact sent his head veering to the opposite side.

Before I could comprehend anything I was slammed against the wall so hard I thought I'd pass out. I shrieked in shock, grimacing at the pain building up in my arms and back. His face was in mine, both of our eyes widened and frozen, unbelieving of his actions.

A flicker of realization and guilt crossed his eyes, the drunken look gone completely.

"I--" He swallowed, looked down, and flinched his hands away from my skin like he'd been burned. "I didn't--"

"Ow.." I cried, staring at my stomach. "My back."

"Oh. I didn't...I never..." He grabbed at his hair insanely. "Oh god, I did it again!"

My anger was completely forgotten as I squinted at him, trying to catch his eyes with mine. "Spike?"

"Sodding strength, I never mean it but it always does me wrong," he babbled, pacing in front of me. "I hurt the girl. I hurt her. I hurt her." The mantra continued as he clutched his head, eyeing the hard surface he was stepping on.

I wanted to say something. _Anything_. Even an annoyed, '_Insanity is so last season for you, Spike'._ But I merely stared, transfixed.

He grabbed his coat. "Gotta get away from you."

"Spike, I'm ok." I reached for his arm, but he shifted back quickly.

"_Stay away from me_."

"Spike..." I repeated, my voice breaking.

He blocked out my voice.

And left.

* * *

To say I was stunned wouldn't be enough for what I was feeling. _Not at all._ My eyes didn't leave the empty doorway, and it seemed like I just stood there for endless minutes. In my head I relived the scene, over and over. 

He _freaked. _

I didn't get it at first, not entirely. But after a few minutes, it sunk in.

What was I supposed to do? Tell him everything was okay and that he didn't hurt me?

But he did.

_Shouldn't have hit him._ _Stupid, stupid me…_

When feeling returned to my legs and I was able to move, I flipped out. Throwing off the sheets, ripping off the curtains and blinds, all the while screaming into the silent air.

"_I hate you!_ Hate!" Threw the clock. "You!" And the lamp. I went for the nightstand itself but other hands stopped me, gripping my wrists. My eyes traveled up to see the landlord. And that's when I broke down, collapsing to the floor and sobbing.

* * *

3:05. Spike's not here yet. He should get home, the sun is about to come up soon. Don't want him coming home in a blanket, that would confuse Ms Dennis. If she's even awake now. Her raspy, sleepy voice from our previous conversation rang in my head.

"_You owe me money."_

Insensitive bitch. Or bitca, as Xander called it one time as not to disturb my young ears.

I smiled. He would have really hated Ms Dennis.

Focused on the clock, the red letters harshly glaring back at me, I frowned. My conversation with her didn't turn out too well. Must have been the fact that I gave her an attitude.

"_You broke a lamp, a clock, the curtain rod and disheveled the curtains and blankets! Why don't I throw both of you out _right _now?" _

"_Cause my brother's not here, and we're practically the only ones staying in this dirty hole?"_

She had pointed her finger, her hair hanging in snarls around her wrinkled face. Apparently I woke her up.

I snorted at my usage of 'brother'.

_Spike _is my brother that I've always known, but grew up in England. I lived in the states though, hence the difference of our way of talking. Anyone who bought this was a complete idiot. I was beginning to like this town, our lies would flow very well.

My eyes wandered around the empty, trashed room, stopping at the door.

_Come on, come in. _

Yet, if he did, what would I say? What would I do? Pretend I was asleep, like so many other nights after his drunken activities? Would I yell at him for the bruises spreading on my back? _So, so much force. _

God, how can I be so weak? "_Owww, my back._ _It hurts so much. I think I got a bruise or two. End of the world for me." _When they had to suffer an incredible amount of pain in their lifetime _and_ their deaths.

My fists gripped the sheets.

I witnessed her death.

_No, no. Walk. Now._

My legs swung off the bed and I grabbed my coat in a hurry, barely getting it on before I reached the door. On shaky legs, I headed outside.

* * *

The town was nothing special at night. Didn't have beautiful lights, or magnificent scenery that stood out from the darkness. Everything seemed drab, or maybe it was just me. Sidewalks trailed throughout the town. The stores in the main section were lined up like a city street, only a few still open. But, me being only seventeen, I couldn't go in them. Still, a few kids were out, roaming the streets. Wouldn't they have school in a couple hours? Or was today Saturday…? 

Ugh.

I pray to whatever controls the universe that Spike will not make me go to school. It's doubtful he will—wasn't he the one who said it was useless anyway. Then again Spike thinks everything is useless except—

Wait. No thinking about Spike. Think about…

The demon snarling at you from ten feet away.

"Oops."

* * *

"The cleaning crew is still going through Sunnydale for any survivors or clues to what has happened." 

The reporter on the television seemed too loud for Spike's ears, and he tried to block the words out. He knew there wouldn't be any survivors, any hope of America finding out what really happened. If the government caught something unfamiliar, they would just cover it up like they always have done.

"So far they have only identified one body by the teeth, that body belonging to—" The television shut off.

"No need to hear that to ruin the rest of your night." The bartender rested his elbows on the counter. "You don't look familiar."

Spike lifted his head. "What?"

"I haven't seen you before. Usually the people that come here are the ones who were born in this town and had no reason to leave. Where are you from?"

Sighing, Spike stared at his glass mindlessly.

"Not in the mood for small-talk, mate. Just give me another shot."

The man hesitated, sliding the glass toward him. "I think we'll stop the shooting for today. I'll call you a cab; we're closing up in a few minutes anyhow."

"No need," Spike waved his hand dismissively. "Can handle myself."

"You su--"

He stood up, almost knocking the stool down as he stumbled from the counter.

"…sure."

* * *

I looked at my surroundings. 

During my speeding thoughts, I managed to walk myself right into a secluded cemetery. And I realized the only potential weapons were sticks and tombstones that were too heavy to pick up.

The sunburned red demon continued to sneer at me. I was food and I knew it. Food…or a toy it could torture and play with for as long as it would like. I'm not sure which I'd rather be.

Not realizing I backed myself up against a tree, I tried to moisten my mouth. But everything was numb. I didn't move, partly because I couldn't and…partly because I didn't want to.

It was in front of me in a matter of seconds, pulling me down to the ground. I kicked and screamed but didn't try with all my strength. It heated and suffocated me, bruising my chest and limbs as it crawled over my body. Everything throbbed with pain.

Slamming my foot into its chest, I sent it flying to the ground. My fingers clawed the earth beneath me, pulling myself along the dirt ground. The demon attacked again, and I felt my back crush under its weight.

My cries shattered the surrounding air.

* * *

He lightly staggered through the alley, focusing on the ground he walked on. Noises passed through his ears but didn't interrupt his muddled thoughts. Everywhere in his mind he saw the night's event. Played it over and over. 

With a frustrated grunt he threw his bottle of liquor against the alley wall.

That was becoming a habit lately.

He gingerly held his head as it pounded heavily, corrupting his thinking and senses. His ears failed to hear the commotion around the corner until the deadly blood-curling scream that was followed by silence.

His body awakened, but not so much to run fast enough. He stumbled and tripped while he struggled to the sight of a vampire draining the life of a familiar figure.

It was too late.

Spike darted toward the vampire, pulling out his stake. But his movements were slow and noisy, and the vampire spun around to knock the stake out of Spike's grasp. They took turns attacking each other with dissimilar blows, Spike too drunk to do much harm. But he managed to grab the vampire's wrist when he went for another punch, and dragged them both to the ground. He reached for his stake and with a stressed grunt pierced him through the heart.

The dust irritated his eyes causing them to water. He looked over to the victim.

The bartender.

Spike, still on the ground, dragged himself over to the man. His face fell when he was met with beady eyes. Too late.

A sigh escaped his lips. Spike didn't walk away. He didn't grimace with disgust.

His hand shook lightly as he clutched the man's shoulder.

The neck moved closer and closer to his mouth.

He tasted it.

* * *

I grabbed at everything—dirt, pebbles, grass, until I felt a larger rock buried into the ground. With everything I had I pulled at it until it finally rested in my hands. I let out a fierce cry at the exact moment I smashed it into the demon's head. It got off me to cradle its head, but I knew I only had a few seconds before it would attack again. 

I never stopped to look back. Just headed for the hotel hoping I lost the demon. When I reached the downtown area, the few people that were out worriedly gaped at me. But I didn't slow down. My clothes were torn and in the gaps of the fabric, bruises and deep gashes throbbed and made themselves clearly visible.

In a matter of minutes I was limping up the hotel's path. I barged into the vacant main room and hurried up the stairs, clutching my stomach in agony.

_Wait. _

My fingers weaved through my jean pockets, searching for the key. _Still there._

I unlocked the door, rushing inside to close it with a bang. My legs gave way and I slid down the wall, my need for breath disrupting my sobs.

"Oh god oh god oh god…." I looked at myself. Everything was less severe than I felt—there were scratches and bruises but nothing fatal.

My cheeks reddened. The dramatic run throughout the town made its way into my memory.

"Ugh."

Standing up, I stumbled my way to the bathroom. Time to clean up.

* * *

_Creak. _

The hotel door slid open, and the same dead scent crept through the air. Spike's jacket fell to the floor.

"Lil' bit?"

"Mmmm…" I murmured. One eye popped open.

I waited.

But no more words escaped his mouth. He untied his shoes and crawled into bed, resting closer than usual.

Even though I was facing the opposite direction, I could tell he was staring at me.

"I'm fine," I said. My voice was much harsher than I intended it to be, but I let my words hang in the air. He remained quiet.

I was surprised. Vampires can smell blood even if it's been scrubbed from the tub.

Then why can't he…? Never mind that.

"Stop staring."

"I'm not staring," he protested.

"Yes you are. I can tell."

"How?" he challenged. I turned to face him.

_Cause anyone who isn't brain dead can feel your eyes on them. _"I have a sixth sense."

He snorted. "Really."

"Yes."

We stopped.

Spike shoving me against the wall full-force flashed in my mind. I rolled back.

A sigh from Spike was clearly heard, and he too settled in. Turned away.

My eyes closed drowsily, but when I tried to sleep all I could hear were strange voices hollering at me from all directions. Flickering, my eyelids fought to keep a single thought, a sole image.

Minutes had past before I fell asleep.

* * *

Xander threw out his hand, stalling. 

I waited. The ground shook under my feet.

He looked over to me. "You can feel it too?"

Frantically darting over to the weapon cabinet in the Magic Box, I cracked it open and placed axes and crossbows on the floor. "It's coming! Where's Buffy?"

He made himself busy getting magiks for Willow, who was back at the house trying to weaken the apocalypse.

"At the house…with the others. We don't have a lot of time, Dawn." He came over and placed his hand on mine. "Just take what you need to get from here to there."

Holding the bag of necessities in one hand, he picked up an axe with the other. Swung it around.

"Nice?"

He grunted like Thor. "A man's weapon."

My smirk was interrupted. A demon broke down the door, and five followed. I got up from my feet, ancient axe in hand.

"Don't die."

He stepped back, horror-struck. "Right back at you."

The demons attacked, and three came racing to me. I twisted the handle but the blade sliced through the air, missing its target. One demon struck my face with its spiked hands and my head veered to the left. I dropped to the ground. "_Xander!_"

"Just keep goin'."

I looked up from my place on the ground.

Xander, sitting cross-legged on the Magic Box chair, pointed from me to the demons. "Come on."

"What…_why aren't you helping me!_" I yelled. The demons hovered over me, waiting for the right moment.

"Well, why should I? _You _didn't add much to our fight." He held his knee with both hands, and the look in his eyes was—resentment. "While we were being beaten to our deaths, you were running. So I figured, _Dawn_ should get a chance to really feel what its like to—"

* * *

Head nudging into the pillow, I slowly became aware of what was real. The cloth under me was wrinkled from my tossing, and my head pounded until I thought it would explode. I hopped out of bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. 

The mirror's reflection glared back.

"You idiot."

I placed my hand on the cold knob of the faucet, turning it ever so slightly. Rinsing my face, I looked back up at my reflection. Buffy's words rang in my head.

"_We're going to make it out alive. I'm not losing anyone."_

My eyes dropped to the counter in shame.

"_Rally up the troops!_ _Dawn, I'm trusting you to handle front."_

I stopped the faucet water. The room blurred.

"_Where is everybody?"_

"_No idea." Spike's eyes wandered around the burning town. "Everything's scattered." He looked back at me with worry. "I can't find Buffy."_

_Four vampires jumped out from the shadows, grabbing at our shoulders. I managed to knock one off and staked him in the heart, while Spike quickly dispatched the other three. _

"_We have to go find them."_

I went over to the door and opened it, peered through the gap. There, an empty bed. I hadn't realized that when I woke up.

My vision reverted to the mirror. I studied the dark circles, the redness covering my temples. Light cuts on my collarbone and naked arms.

The next thing I knew I was smashing the mirror with my bare hands, screaming all the while. The jagged edges pierced my skin but I didn't care. All I wanted was for the mirror to be gone. The sound of glass shattering on the floor did little to block out my cries, and when I finally stopped I realized what I'd done.

I fell to the floor in pain. The blood spilled off my fingers and onto the bits of glass that surrounded me. I could still see my distorted reflection on the broken pieces.

But instead of the sudden silence, several familiar voices bombarded my head. I tensed. There, my very own sister, my dear friends.

"All my fault."

My swollen lips shook uncontrollably, collecting the many tears that fell. In a hurry I grabbed one of the sharp portions of the mirror.

I looked over to my wrist. Glass in hand, I raised my arm enough to glide the pointed edge across the skin.

A moan escaped my mouth. I cut my arm harder this time, from the wrist down. Blood seeped through. Stopping, I let out a painful cry.

I switched arms, following the exact path on my right. The blood flowed out from all sides, overwhelming my skin. I focused on the pain. The stinging, the emptying of blood and life. I didn't know how much time passed before Spike arrived.

I knew he was there before he made a noise.

"Is this what they felt?"

"God, Dawn."

My red eyes worked their way up to his face. "This is what they felt, isn't it."

I've never seen him so pale, so horrified. I rocked to my side, my arms cradling each other. Spike rushed over, grabbed my wrists to see the damage. His rough hands hurt them even more, though I was too weak to say anything.

Strands of hair attacked my eyes as they met his. Wide, penetrating. They were mixed with incredible emotions, ones I couldn't begin to understand. But I recognized desire…fear. They hauntingly crept over his face, almost unwillingly.

He dropped my arms to retrieve bandages in the bathroom drawer. I could hear his rapid pants of breath as he searched for them, something I've never thought to come across.

My eyes closed.

Everything drifted away until all that was distinct was the sound of my own weakening heart.

Spike's head whipped around.

"No, no." He straightened my limp body, opening the bandages. "Don't doze on me now, you hear?" I nodded meekly. But as he clumsily dressed my cuts, everything seemed to blacken, alienate themselves until all I could feel, think and see was darkness.

* * *

"She's lost a lot of blood," the doctor said. She eyed the man, mixed with wonderment and intimidation. 

"Yeah, tell me something that isn't so bloody obvious."

Doctor Hayes sighed.

"Is she…?"

"She's going to be fine. For now." The doctor added. "Listen."

She took him gently by the arm, leading him to two chairs in the corridor. But he refused to sit.

"Her intent for doing this is way beyond what we can heal. Dawn has some serious psychological damage, and we can't ignore that."

Spike remained quiet, which urged her to go on.

"And…there are some other physical matters I would like to discuss with you. Now, the cuts on her skin can be easily explained by her crushing the mirror with her bare hands."

"Yes…" he said slowly, waiting for her to reach her point.

"But there are—bruises—covering her back, ones only brought upon a just little while ago…"

Flashes went through Spike's mind as the doctor droned on. What he did, the pain he caused. He didn't think it was so severe…

"Now this is not my place, there will be a family counselor, among others that will be brought in."

"You think I did this--?"

Doctor Hayes looked up, unsure of what to answer. "Well, like I've told you, a family specialist is coming in and—"

"Look," Spike interrupted, waving his hand. "Our problems go way beyond their comprehension. They can take their writing knacks and know-it-all galore to a family one picket short of a fence—tell them to sod off."

"I'm afraid these are issues they can't ignore."

"Well, they should let us handle the situation without them gnawing at our backs."

"Tell me, are you handling it well so far?"

* * *

The door swung open. Spike's dark, solemn figure entered, his coat swaying along with his weary walk. 

"You're awake."

My eyes darted left to right. "I think so."

He smiled sadly, sitting in the chair beside my hospital bed. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but he didn't make a sound.

After long moments of staring at his bowed head, I spoke.

"How did you…I mean with who we are."

"Made use of some fake names I've gathered over the years."

I looked down, voice weak. "Got ya."

Funny how we talk about the subjects we don't necessarily care about. His head went back to being lowered. For as long as I've known Spike, he was always the one being straight-forward, hated to beat around the bush. Never could shut his mouth. Seeing him like this was unnerving.

"How long do I have to be here?"

Without glancing up he replied. "A while."

My eyes began to water. I wanted him to talk, to speak like he's always had before. Before we left Sunnydale.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes finally lifted, but they darted around the room, avoiding mine. He shook his head, waving my apology.

But I said it again. "I'm _so_ sorry." Sobs erupted from my body, and I began to shake. "I couldn't do it. I can't do it now either." My words were broken as I cried. "It's too hard, Spike."

Tears began to fill his eyes, but he refused to look.

"You won't talk to me. Say something."

_Or you're gone, just like them. _

I waited for his voice. But it didn't come. My lip trembled and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the cries.

Slowly, his hands draped over mine. Like a moving rag doll.

_So this is what he feels like. _

He kissed my fingers. Gently. But the sensation lingered, my lips parting.

"I've got you."

Those three words, his skin on mine—the look in his eyes—all comforted me. My body willed itself to sleep, but his voice still stayed in my mind.

"I've got you."

**TBC**


End file.
